A Chilled Morning
by SolidFigments
Summary: Ayame wanders around Shigure's home, but it's cold, and his vulnerability is witnessed by a man he hates to love. Unrequited, slash if you squint.


**A/N:** _This is a story that came from a prompt in my head that wouldn't leave me alone: Ayame transforming after knocking into a table. I'm not sure how this came out the way it did, but I like it nonetheless. Enjoy._

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Ayame opened his eyes to the sight of a wall of books. Amber eyes followed the lines languidly, the titles becoming more readable as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. The sound of Shigure's breathing was loud in the silence of the room. Ayame turned his head towards the sleeping man's direction, watching a wrinkled blanket rise and fall in slow, deep breaths. He knew that Shigure wouldn't be waking up anytime soon, having laughed himself to sleep after the fitful day was put to a close. Who would have thought Yuki and Kyō could be so excited to see their glorious older cousin drinking tea at their table? A smile moved itself against the sheets. Perhaps the boys were awake, about to climb from their beds? Maybe little Tohru was awake, peeking into the kitchen in search for something to drink before going back to sleep?

Ayame pondered this for a moment, curious about the time . It was useless to search for any time piece in Shigure's room: the amount of papers and trash about the room was high and deep, covering the windowsills and preventing any light from coming in. Ayame lied in bed quietly before deciding to rise; his mind was now fully awake, ready to open the costume shop even though he wasn't due in until later in the afternoon. With a sigh he pulled the blankets back. Sheets were carefully moved, revealing a pair of pale, sinewy legs. Not stepping on the things littering the floor was no easy feat, but Ayame managed to pull open the door and pass the threshold into the hall without a sound. Ayame closed the door as quietly as he could; Shigure sighed and grunted as the door clicked shut.

Now that he was outside of the cluttered room, the chill of the early morning crept over his feet. A window was open somewhere in the house, but Ayame had no intention of finding out which room. He looked to the door he had just shut, contemplating going back inside. Ayame knew that he could transform at any time, but if he crept into bed again, Shigure would most likely wake up, making his day begin at a time that even Ayame didn't want to start, if he could help it. His eyes lowered, and he stepped back, looking down the hallway. The chill was coming from the direction of the kitchen, much to his chagrin. The children's rooms were also in that direction, so he walked on, doing his best to suppress the shivers marching down his spine.

He stopped at the first door and touched the knob, turning it slightly. It gave way to his touch, revealing a sleeping Kyonkichi. His vibrant hair appeared black in the darkness, contrasting with the red-and-white beads surrounding his wrist. That arm was curled under his jaw, and Ayame could see from the doorway that the cat's eyebrows were furrowed, as if he knew there was someone looking in on him. The clock above the cat's head read 4:57, meaning that Kyō would be waking up soon. The window behind his desk was cracked open, the early morning light falling on the bare, hardwood floor. Ayame closed the door before the wind could blow it shut and wake the temperamental boy.

He sighed against the now-closed door, looking back to the other rooms. It was likely that his dear brother had locked his door that night to avoid Ayame from getting in and pestering him. Tohru's room would be open, but despite his teasing words, he had no intention on imposing on the gentle girl. He decided then not to check in on them; he knew that they must be sleeping at this time, and he was tired enough that it was a chore to keep up his exuberance. The breeze from under Kyō's door brushed his feet, and he shivered. The cold that had suddenly permeated the house didn't help. Ayame swore he could hear his joints creaking as he moved to the other side of the house, towards the kitchen. Perhaps a cup of tea would warm him up enough; he did not want to get back into bed just yet.

The further he walked, the more cold he became. Why did he decide to get out of Shigure's warm bed? Ayame felt subtle changes in his body, warning signs of an upcoming transformation. He cursed softly to himself and started to walk faster to the kitchen, only to misjudge the step from the bedrooms to the living room. He stumbled into a low table just as he transformed, his clothing falling over him in waves as his now sleek, thin body fell to the ground. He quickly curled himself into a tight spiral, stealing the body heat from his own clothing in hopes that it would help him transform back faster. Even as a snake, Ayame could feel shivers racking him, disrupting his senses.

Time passed, but the perception of it was skewed when he turned into the snake. In this form he couldn't hear as well, but he could feel everything better, and the vibrations of feet hitting the ground rent his aching body. The cold became intense as someone opened the door to the house. Ayame blinked slowly, attempting to move in hopes of finding any lasting heat from his clothes, but the heat from his body seeped out of the fabric minutes, maybe hours prior. He vaguely wondered who would come into the house at this time in the morning when a large, very warm hand pulled him out of the pile of clothing on the floor, as if the person knew that he would be there. Survival instincts kicked in, and Ayame began wrapping himself around the hand, not noticing the lack of response from the person he clung to.

The warmth of the hand would have had him sighing in relief, had he been in his human form. He flicked his tongue out in hopes of finding out who was helping him. It was a man, judging by the size of the hand, but this particular man was not who he was expecting. By the time his tongue was back in his mouth, he transformed back, stark naked and clinging to the suit jacket of the intruder. Ayame looked up to see hazel eyes staring back at him with disinterest. He let go of the jacket and tried to move, only to have the man grab his pale shoulders. The skin was warm, too warm, and Ayame couldn't stop the dry sob climbing out of his throat as he pulled back and suddenly transformed again, this time falling limp onto the pile of cool silk. His body curled in on itself tightly as the man sighed above him.

"Ayame," the intruder murmured, removing the jacket, "What are you doing out here? You know you can't handle the cold when you're tired."

The voice barely reached the snake, who could only hear the deep tones of the voice. The scaled body barely moved against his robe, it's white body shining with the light he couldn't see coming from the kitchen. If anything, the air in the room became even more chilly, and Ayame fought to stay conscious.

Suddenly, there was warm weight; the intruder placed his body-heated jacket over him and the robe, picking him and the garment off the ground. This time his body did not transform, and the intruder made his way into the kitchen before walking down the hall.

Ayame couldn't see or hear much; he only felt the warmth of the jacket seeping into his cold skin, rousing him from near fainting. His tongue flit out of his mouth once more and was further awakened by the scents on the jacket. He didn't want to transform back into a human, not while this one was around. Shigure would laugh at him if he were to see Ayame now, in the arms of the man he hated loving.

He was carried by the man for only a short time before he was dumped unceremoniously onto a bed, one he was unfamiliar with. He tasted the air and realized that he had been brought to the guest room in Shigure's house. Typically, this would be the room Ayame was expected to occupy. At least, the kids thought this. He knew that as long as Shigure was around, he would be sleeping in his bed, not the one across the house from him.

The jacket was slowly pulled away from Ayame, and he wiggled his pale, scaled body in an attempt to pull out of it, fear running through him. He couldn't hear the voice above him, but when the warm fabric of the suit jacket was being ripped away from him, he knew that in some way he irritated the man. Unfortunately for both of them, Ayame, still in a state of frenzy, stayed inside the jacket, awkwardly hanging inside one of the sleeves.

"Ayame," the man nearly growled. Ayame heard the exasperation in the voice but didn't move, opting to stay where he was. The jacket stopped moving, and Ayame relaxed, his body curling slowly as the stress from being afraid melted away. In this state, immersed in a jacket that smelled like the intruder, he did not sense the hand that gently closed over the bottom half of his body. Slowly he was pulled out, and without the jacket to protect him, the cold hit his scaled skin once more. Ayame attempted to curl upwards, in hope of once again curling against the warm hand, but it let him go before he could register, dropping him onto the mattress. He wriggled helplessly for a moment, unused to the texture of the cotton comforter, before curling loosely onto the surface. Ayame was once again fighting to stay conscious, the stress of being man-handled and near the man he loved overwhelming him.

Silence took over the room. If Ayame did not know any better, he would have thought that he was left alone. His intruder would not leave him like that, especially with the knowledge that the snake could die if left alone. No good doctor would leave their patient unattended. Ayame lifted his head, tongue flickering out. Yes, Hatori was still there. Ah, he thought the name; the human thoughts entering his mind gave him a warning that he would be transforming soon. He slithered slowly about the bed, looking for his robe, but it was nowhere he could reach. He turned his head, attempting to hear Hatori's breathing.

"…Robe?" Ayame croaked out, trying his best to use his vocal cords. By the time he felt the man stand to reach it, he was surrounded by a cloud of smoke. When he finally transformed back, he was shivering, long hair cascading down his bare back. The cotton of the top blanket felt rougher when felt by human skin. It scratched at his abdomen, having transformed on his stomach.

"Ayame," Hatori called, his voice closer than the slim man expected. Ayame looked up, amber eyes focusing on the face of his friend. Hatori knelt down near the bed to see him better, examining his features and body, noting the goose bumped flesh and pale skin that appeared a shade whiter than normal. A hand reached out to brush back long, silver tresses.

Ayame pulled away, putting his arms under himself in an attempt to raise his upper body. When the movement caused him obvious discomfort, warm hands gripped under his arms to pull him upwards. Ayame made a noise of protest, wanting those hands on him and yet knowing he shouldn't. When he was upright, he tried to pull away from those hands.

"Hatori-"

"It's the middle of winter, Ayame. You know how you are when it's cold. Now you are on the verge of being deathly sick. What were you doing out of your room so early?"

He looked at the bed, at the untouched pillows and bed that was unused. He looked back at the shivering creature, rubbing the cold skin of his arms.

"You don't use this bed. Where do you sleep?" Ayame sighed, blowing a strand of hair out of his face and trying to ignore the hands on his body.

"With Shigure. He is just as aware of my condition," Ayame answered, carefully avoiding why he was outside the room in the first place.

Hatori wouldn't care that Ayame was curious about the kids, and at any rate, he would most likely chastise him about that, too. Lost in his thought, he nearly jerked out of his skin when those hands touched the side of his face. Hazel eyes bored into his for a moment, and his heart leapt into his throat. He breathed slowly, trying to slow his heart beat as Hatori carefully looked over his face, as if he were trying to figure Ayame out through his features alone. He didn't let go as he started speaking again, and Ayame had to lower his eyes to concentrate on his breathing.

"Hm. Hatsuharu gave me quite a few calls yesterday," Ayame huffed, his breath ruffling the dark hair in front of him, "Ayame, you need to let Yuki breathe. You can't always be here, you'll just push him away."

Ayame turned his eyes back to Hatori and pulled away from his hands.

"I don't always come here for Yuki, you know. This is not my little brother's home, it's _Shi's _home. I came over to see him yesterday," Ayame made another little huff, "It is not my fault that the table Shigure uses for tea just happens to be in line with the door to the house."

Ayame turned away from Hatori, wincing at the slow creaking of his joints. He spotted his robe and began to reach for it, wanting something to keep the man at distance. Being naked around him felt like a normal occurrence, after all the years he, Hatori and Shigure have spent together, transforming from their zodiac back to human. The robe would distance them somewhat, even though the man's closeness was keeping him from changing back so soon. Just as his fingers brushed the silk robe, Hatori grabbed it, his reach being just a few inches longer than Ayame's. The robe slid along his thighs as Hatori moved the bundle of robe between them. He rubbed the fabric between his fingers.

"You really should buy a warmer robe than this." Ayame, frustrated, grabbed the robe from those damned, warm hands and pushed his arms into it, tying it loosely at the waist. The robe was chilled from being off of his body for so long, and he hated the shiver that came from the cool touch on his skin. He looked up at Hatori, eyes blazing.

"Would you stop treating me like a child? I-I'm aware of what I need to do to stay warm. I don't go telling you what water to be in when you turn." He turned away from Hatori, walking out of the room and into the hallway. He knew that he was acting out of his character, but he feared so much, and the closer he was to the man, the closer he was to breaking.

As he walked through the hallway into the kitchen, he noticed that Kyō was on his way out of the house, most likely on his way to train somewhere. What time was it?

The cat noticed Ayame walking through the kitchen. He opened the door and was about to step out, but a thought came to him, and he turned back.

"What are you doing up, snake? You weren't thinking about sneaking into my bed again, were you?" Kyō asked, suspicious. Ayame smiled and shook his head. He looked at the open door, his smile slipping. If Kyō noticed, he didn't say anything.

"Not at all!" Ayame replied, albeit weakly, "I was just on my way to Shigure's room. Unless you'd like me in your bed," he teased, trying to appear normal when he could feel the transformation coming. He wanted to run, but he didn't think he could in time. Not while the door was open.

Kyō scoffed, but the noise turned into one of surprise when he saw Hatori walk out from the direction of Ayame's room.

"Hatori? What are you doing here?" Ayame didn't turn to see the man; he could feel eyes boring into him from both men. Ayame started walking again toward the hall to Shigure's room, but the chill that started his transformations earlier in the morning blew in through the door. He gasped and just heard the cat call his name as he transformed for the third time. The vibrations of two sets of shoes rammed into him, and he had a second to register those hands picking him up again before he lost consciousness.

* * *

When Ayame woke up again, it was still morning. The feeling of fresh sheets rubbed against his bare, human skin, waking him up slowly. He felt warmth surrounding him, and he knew that it wasn't just the blankets. His heart constricted as he opened his eyes to see the skin of Hatori's neck just over the collar of his shirt. Those hands that were on him earlier were on him again, one under his body to hold his back, the other holding firmly to his hip. The hand on his hip wasn't completely touching skin; a pair of boxers adorned his body. They were probably Kyō's, the only one who was up and likely worried about his cousin, despite his coarse mannerisms towards him. Plus, he didn't think Shigure wore underwear.

The thought brought a small smile to Ayame's lips, and for a moment, he forgot the identity of the person holding him. The moment did not last long, and before he knew it, the snake was taking in the feeling of being held by the man, the weight of his hands and the strength of the body holding him close yet back. Ayame noticed that their chests were touching, the smoothness of the buttons contrasting with the threads of his shirt. His own arm was thrown over Hatori's waist; Ayame could feel the contours of the doctor's back through the fabric. Their hips just touched, and the hand grasping his hip kept their bodies from completely melding into each other.

Ayame pondered this, carefully sliding his arm off Hatori and pushing himself up. The arm around his back fell away, and with a slow, careful touch, the hand on his hip was moved to the mattress. Gingerly, he moved just enough to sit up, the blankets covering his shoulders falling away onto his lap. The arm that was around Ayame's back laid haphazardly behind him. He watched Hatori's sleeping face with a sense of trepidation. It was obvious from the frown lines adorning Hatori's forehead and lips that he had not been sleeping well: it was doubtless that the one keeping him up was Akito with his constant illness and need to be tended to daily. With careful fingers, Ayame touched the other man's forehead, pale digits gently rubbing the crease in an attempt to alleviate the man from it. Slowly but surely Hatori's expression relaxed, if only marginally. Ayame smiled to himself, shaking his head. Even in sleep, Hatori needed to be serious.

Ayame turned to look at the clock on the nightstand. 9:00. All of the kids were in school, and Shigure wouldn't be up for at least another three hours. The temperature of the room wasn't nearly as cold as it was in the early morning hours. The pang of hunger that Ayame suddenly felt was enough of a motivation to take the chance to step out of bed. With utmost care, he slid out of the bed, watching Hatori's face for any signs of waking up. When his feet were firmly on the floor and the dragon's form in the same position as it was while he was in the bed, Ayame crept out of the room, leaving the door ajar in case the sound of the door's closing would wake Hatori.

The temperature of the hallway was still cool, but Ayame was confident that he wouldn't transform. There was no movement in the house save his own. With no one to see him, Ayame didn't feel compelled to put on any act. He entered the kitchen with a slow gait, moving his hand up to his hair as he debated about which cabinet would hold the tea. His eyes glanced over the counter, but only kitchen appliances set in straight rows covered the counter. Ayame could see how meticulous Tohru was through the kitchen's set up. He smiled to himself and a small chuckle fell from his lips. Yes, the cleanliness of the house itself was all thanks to the girl. It was clear that Tohru did not like to keep food out anywhere.

Ayame continued to muss up his hair for another moment before giving in and opening cabinets. He found a box of tea after going through three cabinets: it was typical sencha tea, a type that would suffice for the morning. He went through the preparations of making tea, quietly murmuring to himself as he set the kettle onto the stove and went searching for a cup or two.

Unbeknownst to the snake, Hatori had woken up the moment he opened the door of the guestroom. He stood leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen while Ayame made himself tea, scrutinizing the slim man while he thought no one was watching him. Having the snake as his possessor, it was not surprising that Ayame was graceful while not trying to be. He moved around much like a serpent: slowly, with a sense of unwinding and winding back up with each movement. Ayame's long tresses should have shown bright, but they only blended in with the pink tones of the snake's back and arms. Hatori frowned when Ayame rubbed his upper arm in an attempt to heat up the undoubtedly cool skin; the temperature of the room, despite what Ayame thought, was not warm enough for the snake to be wearing only boxers. Hatori shifted.

The sound of movement caught Ayame's ears, and he turned surprised amber eyes towards the man watching him. He couldn't help the rush of blood flooding into his face and chest, but he did his best to appear alright with a breathless laugh.

"Hatori, I thought you were sleeping," Ayame said. It was obvious to Hatori that he was making Ayame nervous, but he couldn't fathom why. He scanned that expression with acute eyes, but he made no move to enter the kitchen, opting to give Ayame distance.

"I was. I heard you open the door," Hatori said, moving a hand to his pocket. He pulled out a cigarette, bringing it to his lips. Ayame watched as he took out a matchbook and lit the end before returning back to his task.

"Tea?" he asked over his shoulder. Hatori nodded.

"Sure," he replied, walking over to a cabinet. He picked out a small white plate and placed it on the table, cigarette perched on his lips. The sound of the chair being pulled out caused Ayame to start, and he rolled his shoulders. Hatori noticed.

"Tense, Ayame?" Hatori inquired. His voice was mild and casual, but Ayame knew that the man wanted an answer. An honest answer.

"Yes," Ayame admitted, pouring hot tea into the two cups he set out. His fingers shook as he moved to pick one up. He clenched his fist tightly before attempting to pick it up again.

"What's wrong? I noticed last night that something was bothering you." Hatori could not shake the image of Ayame pulling away from him, of the harsh sound that escaped his throat before he transformed once more, pliant and exhausted. He noted the slight tremble in the pale hands moving the tea cups and knew that whatever was aggravating Ayame last night was still present this morning.

Ayame remained silent, opting to pull out the chair opposite Hatori. He sat down slowly, staring at the plate that had already accumulated so much ash from a single cigarette. Hatori blew the smoke behind him, but the smell still permeated the kitchen. Ayame swallowed thickly, thinking over what to say.

"I cannot say exactly what is wrong with me, because I don't know," Ayame started, bringing his hot tea cup closer to him. "I know that I have come to a point in my life where nothing really makes sense to me anymore. Yet it does." Ayame made a motion with his hand as if trying to extract a clear answer from his head. "Things that I've heard from you and Shigure and so many other people are starting to be understood now, more than it ever did."

"What are those things?" Hatori asked. Ayame looked up from his staring contest with the ashes on the plate. Something in Hatori clenched when those eyes met his. Ayame inhaled deeply.

"Love," Ayame answered, exhaling the word in a rush. "It's love, and it's loving someone you can't have, for reasons that are viable and are impenetrable when held up to the sun." He held Hatori's gaze for as long as he could, but the intensity of the memories that had surfaced with the confession brought Ayame's eyes down to his tea. The sound of a light chuckle brought Ayame's eyes back up to the dragon, who took a long drag of his cigarette.

"It goes to show that even with crucial topics, you still manage to bring out some of your dramatic phrases," Hatori murmured, smoke falling from his lips with each word. He wanted to ask who it was that Ayame loved, but it wasn't like him to ask. Mine, perhaps?

"Even if you think that it is impossible to have the one you love, that may not be the case," Hatori continued, watching Ayame sip his tea with complete concentration, "This curse… before I met Tohru, I would have told you that you just need to face this issue, because it is what we are: the zodiac. Now," Hatori stopped, looking over Ayame's features, "there's hope for us."

It felt as though someone struck Ayame in the face. He gave Hatori a close-lipped smile, then turned his head. Yes, Ayame thought, there is hope for that. He thought of Mine. Yes, for that, but there is no hope for–

"Hatori, you love Mayu, don't you?" Ayame asked, tilting his head just so. Hatori didn't answer, rolling the burning filter of his cigarette over the plate. A lump of tobacco fell onto the porcelain, half of it still smoking, the cherry burning brightly. Ayame watched it consume the other unlit pieces, even when Hatori stood up with his cup and poured it down the drain.

"I think it's time we head back, don't you?" Hatori suggested, turning to look at Ayame. The snake had been oddly serious and non-exuberant for once. He almost dreaded the thought of Ayame going back to his usual self, but as Ayame nodded to himself and grabbed the plate and empty cup, he realized that he was also hoping for it. When Ayame looked back to him, he smiled.

"Yes. I'll go get dressed."

* * *

When Hatori dropped Ayame off in the front of his shop, the door was already unlocked and the 'Open' sign in its place in the corner of large showcase window. He opened the door quietly, but the door's bell chimed with his entrance.

"Ayame! I just received two new orders that I think you're going to absolutely love!" Mine exclaimed upon seeing her boss arrive. Ayame gave her a half-hearted smile. Mine frowned, walking up to him. "Ayame? What's the matter? Did you talk to Hatori?"

Ayame's smile widened, and he sighed, moving a little closer to the woman. She stayed still as he reached up to touch her cheek and stroked her hair.

"You always know what I am thinking of, and you don't even try." Mine stared up into Ayame's amber eyes, her glasses reflecting. A small grin made its way to her lips.

"I do. And I know what will get you into a better mood." She grabbed his hand. It was chilled, and she grasped it tightly. "These orders weren't from just anyone. They were from _Hana_. You know what this means." There was a mischievous gleam in her eyes, and Ayame couldn't help but laugh.


End file.
